


conspiracy to murder

by syari



Category: I Medici | Medici: Masters of Florence (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s02e08 Mass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-11-01 03:07:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17859077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syari/pseuds/syari
Summary: It made no sense. He could never believe it. He looked to Francesco automatically, expecting his friend’s outrage to easily match his own— but Francesco still would not look at him.—or, the one where Francesco reveals the plot and everyone is still betrayed.





	conspiracy to murder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crescentlunae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescentlunae/gifts).



> me, about to reinvent history: oh, you haven’t heard?

The rumble of the crowd blended with the pounding of his feet on the cobbles and the thumping of his heart in his throat. The messenger had only just caught him and he feared the urgency apparent behind the call to an emergency meeting of the Priori, to which he was now late.

Lorenzo burst through the door to the inner chamber but was knocked back by a sudden wall of sound, the murmur audible outside suddenly given a dissonant, clamoring voice.

“—Has done us a service by bringing this to light—“

“—But conspiracy to murder—“

“—Surely the Priori cannot allow—“

“Gentlemen of the Signoria!” The room quieted, tension clear in every glance. In the middle of the storm, Francesco loomed large, an immobile figure almost alien to Lorenzo. He wouldn’t meet Lorenzo’s eyes.

“The plots I have laid before you will go into effect if you do not prevent them. If I do not return to my uncle soon, my duplicity will be suspected and this information will become useless.” Francesco lifted his chin, daring every detractor to contradict him. “Desperate men may strike in any direction.”

“How can we trust you, Pazzi? Do you think us fools who will overlook your part in this?” A sneer twisted Bastiano Soderini’s mouth at the flinch Francesco gave at “fools”, but many of the council muttered in apparent agreement.

Lorenzo opened his mouth to defend Francesco from accusations unknown, but he was beaten to it. 

“You may trust me because of the part I have played, not in spite of it. I could have said nothing, done nothing, and you would have seen blood spilt in the Duomo for it.”

A buzzing filled Lorenzo’s ears, only half obscured — or caused? — by the clamor in the chamber. Jeers rose from the sides of the room only to be drowned out by loud arguments. 

“And what of you, Medici?” A voice from the back of the room rang out over the din. “Do you still trust the man who would slit your own and your brother’s throats at Mass?”

The room roared, calls for order unheeded as Lorenzo stumbled, the ringing in his ears deafening. It made no sense. He could never believe it. He looked to Francesco automatically, expecting his friend’s outrage to easily match his own— but Francesco still would not look at him.

“ENOUGH!” The room quieted begrudgingly, ceding to the gonfaloniere. “Pazzi, you will return and ensure that nothing is suspect. We will send guards to apprehend Jacopo when he moves to strike tomorrow, that he may be charged in accordance with his crimes.”

Francesco bowed his head, hair obscuring his eyes. The crowd parted between him and the door, leaving Lorenzo standing frozen in the middle of the hostile path.

A feeling burned somewhere deep beneath his ribs like frost in a wound. Lorenzo forced it out through numb lips. “Francesco.”

The other man’s lips flattened, and the look he sent back as he finally met Lorenzo’s gaze was dead with the sheer repressed fury dancing behind his eyes, making Lorenzo recoil. Francesco straightened and broke eye contact with a jerk of his chin, nodding to the other restricted council members and turning on his heel to storm away in a swirl of fabrics and emotion.

Lorenzo could only watch him go, the betrayal simmering low but building with every passing breath as the shock ebbed.

**Author's Note:**

> don’t kill me?
> 
> also i have very little knowledge of the time period and the proper usage of terms re: titles and governance so feel free to drop a comment if you want to suggest some changes


End file.
